About Rob Durham

With an English Degree, three years as a doorman at the Columbus Funnybone, over a decade of stand-up experience, and a recent certification in teaching high school English class, writing a book seemed like the next inevitable step for Rob Durham. The son of a coach, Rob has an excellent ability to teach and explain things in the easiest and most direct way possible. His (often labeled ridiculous) memory allows him to think of every possible situation that a new comic might face because at one point he was there too. Rob gives an inside look at comedy that doesn’t sugarcoat the challenges every performer faces. Without ego and the myth that “anyone can do it” Rob gives the reader a true feel of what living the so-called dream feels like, from preparing for that first open mic night to touring the country.

Lately I’ve been booking fellow St. Louis comic, Nathan Ortan, to open for me at various one-nighters. Opening for me is no great honor, but what I look for when I ask someone to work with me translates to others as well. One-nighter gigs are often good money, especially when they’re local and don’t drain your gas tank, plus they make you a better comic which is explained in my book, Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage. They can be quite different than working in a comedy club. So here are the reasons I can count on Nathan to be a solid opener for me.

1. He can get there on his own. I text him the address, he uses technology we’ve had for over a half-decade, and confirms the location with me the day of the gig along with the time. Most importantly, he has a vehicle that will get him there and back. He shows up on time every time.

2. He can clean it up and limit crowd work. This isn’t always a must, but recently Nathan did 10-15 minutes without disgusting or offending the crowd. Nathan usually works with very little crowd interaction which is appropriate for short sets up front.

3. He realizes the crowd is going to suck but still works through it. There is no tougher spot than opening a show in a room that isn’t expecting comedy. Usually they’re not seated, listening, or even facing the stage. The introduction you get is awful and the sound system is even worse. This happened and Nathan didn’t complain once. Afterwards he was positive and thanked me for the experience and compared it to comedy weight-lifting. Each one of these hell gigs gets a little better as you get used to them.

4. As mentioned in #3, he’s thankful.

5. He wears appropriate attire. At a recent gig we did, I texted him that jeans weren’t allowed because it was at a country club. No problem. (No, he didn’t wear shorts either.) Be sure you can clean yourself up and wear bigboy outfits when the time comes.

Note: I’ve had a lot of other great openers as well who also were good examples of the above (this post wasn’t to suggest that any of them weren’t).

For more tips on how to make money in comedy, check out Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage on Amazon, iTunes, Kindle, Nook, etc.

Because you needed another opinion on the whole Seinfeld thing, right? This is kinda about that, but at a different angle. Two weeks ago I performed at the Valley Park Funnybone. It’s summer and it’s not the busiest club, but we had around 35 for the second show Friday. It was by far the youngest crowd of the week. That club typically has a demographic of 30’s-50’s and it’s a good room for laughs–pretty typical. However, the show I mention on Friday was 80% under 30 and the “edgy” jokes in my set (my friends who know them roll their eyes) that got laughs all week, received a different response: “Oooohh’s” and such. So is this a sign that they’re too PC and a bad crowd? Here’s my take on it…

No.

As comics, we like laughs. Laugh at us and then you can even applaud should everyone deem it appropriate. The younger generation just makes a different noise. Those “Ooohhh’s” that you hear aren’t as bad as you think. The studio audience for Tosh.0 does the same thing. Does that mean they don’t like the joke? Of course not, they’re his fans and they know exactly what they’re getting there.

I once read that laughter is a very strong and primitive form of communication with the other person. It tells them, “I connect with you.” What’s happened is that these young moaners and groaners are trying to tell us that same message, but with a different sound or expression. If a crowd really doesn’t like your joke, more likely than not they’ll let out a little gasp and quietly look to the faces of the people at their table. For proof of this, watch what happens at open mic when a rookie tries to pull off something edgy and it comes off completely racist. They don’t even give the performer the courtesy of the moan most times because that would subconsciously suggest that they’ve connected with them.

When you get groans (which are as contagious as laughter among audience members), you’re at least getting a response. It’s just throwing us comics off because we’re used to the traditional laugh. Groaning and “ooooohhhh’s” have climbed their way into our natural responses. People have this as a new way of responding that they’re shocked by something. It happens in other forms of entertainment as well. Watch old highlights of Dr. J dunking on people. Now watch modern clips of LeBron. The responses from the fans and players are completely different thirty-some years later. Today’s players have a completely body language which says, “I’m surprised and impressed by what just happened,” than those from Dr. J’s time.

I’m like you in that I’ll admit that I get frustrated when I don’t get the traditional laugh, but those same people who moaned and groaned at my jokes during that late show did nothing by compliment my set on their way out afterwards.

Oh, and as far as why college kids suck as audience members? It’s very simple. They can’t put their cellphones away.

Obviously it’s not a good idea, but what if you have a one-nighter booked and you’re offered a week on top of that? In St. Louis we usually have the luxury of having someone cover us for a show, but in a different town you probably don’t. It’s best just to say you can’t do the week. Bookers understand and it shows them that you’re a working comic. They hate it when comics back out on them, so they shouldn’t hold it against you. You should be offered another week in the future if you have to say no. Just like when you send avails, you want to show them you’re busy and at least somewhat in demand.

Here’s what else can happen–you cancel one gig for a “better” one, and then the new one gets canceled and now you’re out both gigs.

So when should you? Consider what’s going to lead to a better future. Will it affect future working opportunities? Are you willing to burn a bridge with whoever you’re canceling on? 99% of the time it just isn’t worth it. If it’s a working comic taking you on the road with him or her it might be considered a wise choice because it will ultimately result in a lot more work. Just be sure.

Some comics swear by never canceling. This is probably the best way to go, but if you’re financially pressed or have the opportunity of a lifetime, it’s hard not to. Big names do it often, but they’re benefited by the club needing them more than they need the club. There have been a lot of big-named headliners who I was supposed to open for who canceled for TV appearances, etc. (The biggest being Jim Gaffigan back in ’03.) They have that luxury, most of us don’t.

So when the temptation comes, don’t cancel a gig for another one. It’s easy to get a bad reputation for this. Give the booker other available dates and be persistent on following up to get a different date.

For other tips on how to make money in stand-up comedy, check out Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage(available on Amazon, Kindle, iTunes, Nook, Kobo, etc.).

As comics most of us have a reason we’re a comedian. It has to do a lot more than because we’re funny. It often stems from something negative. Over the years I’ve worked with and met a lot of dysfunctional comics who cheat themselves due to whatever misery they’ve had to deal with. Here’s how I avoided that…

Last Saturday I worked one of the toughest gigs of my career. It wasn’t in an unruly bar where bottles were being tossed or in an urban room after following a great high-energy urban comic; it was a rather innocent sounding fundraiser for a local school district. In fact, nearly half of the crowd was either a teacher or working in the education field I was told. I’m a language arts teacher and a good chunk of my act is about the classroom. There were around 150 120 there when I got on stage.

I call this the final exam of comedy because it took almost every aspect of things I’ve learned in my total of 15 years performing to pull off what I felt was a good set. So much of what I’ve blogged about on here or written in Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage came up, that it felt just like a test.

As mentioned before, the risk of these fundraisers (though they pay well) is that they don’t know how to run a comedy show. The MC has no idea how to host and the room is never properly set up. If I made a mistake, it was not getting more involved with the setup, but then again, is that really my job? (it’s up to you, you get paid either way.) I got there a half hour early and the crowd was eating a buffet. My feature act arrived too and we asked about what was acceptable as far as content. Though she answered us, if you think about it, a woman in charge of fundraising does not know what’s honestly acceptable. The crowd determines that. She told us, PG-13 and don’t drop the F-bomb over and over. “They’re all adults, so they should be fine.”

Should be, but weren’t. I noticed the bar wasn’t really busy at all and a lot of the crowd’s makeup was older women who were very concerned about the silent auctions going off to the side. So my first thought was about which jokes I needed to edit out of my 45 minutes.

The room setup was awful. There was a large stage, but there was a lot of house lighting (on the buffet and gift baskets) so I asked her about dimming the house lights which she was able to do. The biggest problem was that the tables on the right and left side of the room had about a 30-foot gap between them leaving the center of the room, where everyone could’ve fit, completely empty. None of the tables on stage right or left were very close either.

Here’s the most relate-able and common problem with one-nighters: The MC has no idea how to run a comedy show. He was nice, but he dropped the ball numerous times. Assume your MC knows nothing at every one of these gigs. Explain things to him in the most dumbed down way you can. We gave him our most simplistic intros. Clubs and college, yada yada, and explained that no one really cares about intro credentials so please just bring us up. He interpreted that (as many have) as beginning with our names, stumbling through our full bios that he got online, and then “Here he is.”

I brought my sacrificial lamb buddy to do 15 minutes ahead of me. Always bring an opener! They serve as a sound check and a buffer for all of the other things that need to be corrected. I suffered through the years of this role, performing to bars with the lights/TV still on, feedback from hot mics, crowds not listening, etc. The MC was supposed to wrap up the silent auction and then bring up my opener. Guess which order he picked to do that in? So as my feature began his set, a bunch of soon to be retired librarians and school teachers battled it out for the Bath and Body Works gift baskets. When a good chunk of the room isn’t listening, those who are seated assume that they don’t need to listen and that pretty much wipes out a set.

The MC went back up and finally closed the stupid auction and then announced the 50/50 raffle which would be taking place right in front of the stage…”And now for your next comic…”

This is where it’s okay to step in and own your show. I told him, “No, you need to let them finish their sales, and THEN I’ll perform.” He honestly was going to let it go on with people talking right in front of the stage. I repeat: Assume the MC knows nothing in most places because it’s often true. The DJ even dimmed more lighting and played two songs to which a few of the “I gotta dance” girls came up and shook for those 6 minutes. In a firm, professional manner I explained what I needed him to do and what the room needed to do for a successful show.

Once I got on stage, I did the usual local humor, made fun of the venue, etc. and then went into material…clean, PC material. I tried a little crowd work and the guy said he knew me from my ex-girlfriend of 9 years ago, so that got a few cheap laughs, but overall it was a successful set. I made sure not to comment if a joke didn’t do as well, and I didn’t turn on them if they groaned. It honestly was my best effort for a full set. Just 2 or 3 years ago this kind of situation would’ve led to me bombing. It shows that through on and off stage experience you can make the best of a challenging situation. Some comics have the attitude of, “Well I get paid either way,” but honestly, who wants to be in a poor setup for 45 to an hour? Plus it leads to better merch sales. I chatted with the bartender (always a great barometer for what kind of crowd you’ll have) and she took my card for an upcoming gig she was hoping to book me for. That’s another reason your attitude should be to always do your best no matter the situation.

Years ago (2007), an important booker declined to use me because he said I wasn’t 100% likable even during the tough gigs. He needed someone who could do well even in a bad room. I can honestly say I’m at that point (finally). For a one-nighter it’s not just about what you say and do on stage–getting a show to run properly can be an even bigger difference.

For more advice on how to make money in stand-up comedy, try reading Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage via Amazon or any ebook format (Kindle, iTunes, Nook, etc.)

The best and easiest way to get into a new club is to feature for a headliner they know and trust. Here’s the thing, if you’re a strong feature act, a lot of headliners aren’t going to want to follow you night after night. Yes, the great ones with large draws have the courage and ability to do so, but think back to how many not-so-great features you’ve seen open for big-name headliners who are more famous than funny? What I’m saying is don’t feel bad if no one ever takes you on their tour.

Going to a club’s open mic night often doesn’t help much either. If it’s a bigger room, the manager/booker isn’t there scouting new talent (Hell, you may not even get on the list!) If he/she is on location, they’re probably taking care of paperwork in the office. Your goal should be to try and get a guest set during one of their actual shows. Since the economy (and comedy club) crash of ’07, it’s rare to find a room that has shows Wednesday-Sunday (Some clubs used to even do Tuesday-Sunday). Your best bet is to aim for Thursday or Sunday night if they’re open on those evenings. If it’s a struggling weekend-only club, you can do a spot on a show, but probably the late one with less people. This is where your networking with headliners can be beneficial. Check out a club’s schedule, see who you know on it, and if they respect your act, ask them about doing a guest set during the week. If they respect your act, they’ll do what they can to get you on stage. If not, their effort will be slightly lower or they’ll make an excuse about it. To feel this out, start by asking them if they’ll give you the manager/booker’s email address. If they offer more help than that, you’re in good shape. Do this around a week or so out. Don’t try to book a guest set 4 months ahead of time; that shows an empty calendar. It always helps to phrase your email to make it sound like you’re on your way to or from another paid gig.

If you don’t know a headliner on their upcoming schedule, call the ticket office or find an email address on the webpage and start this process half a week earlier.

Having a great guest set does not guarantee any sort of work. You’ll be lucky if the right person even sees it. The key is hanging out afterward (OVER-TIP), being remembered as a normal person (not one of those random weirdos with no social skills), and then doing another guest set in the next month or so. A lot of clubs have to know you as a person in order to leave a good impression on them. It’s just like a regular job in that a lot of places don’t hire strangers. Your second time around the manager is more likely to watch.

Even if you’re dirt poor, make it a goal to do at least one guest set a month outside of four hours from your home. This is the financial sacrifice you have to be willing to make to get work at a new club. So instead of buying all of those beers on open mic night, tacos on the way home, and video games, put it towards finding new work. Club work can grow exponentially because that’s where you’re going to have better odds of working with helpful people (comics or club managers). You also get a lot more stage time and can develop a rhythm while performing in the same setting every night.

I used to get so frustrated when I’d drive for hours to do an open mic and they’d put me up first before most of the crowd even got there, and then apologize afterwards. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were an actual comic. I wasn’t watching but I heard you did well.”

It’s really a tough process. Getting into a new club can be as hard as landing a new job, but once you’re in, that club can really build you up as a comedian and who knows, maybe it’ll lead to you finally headlining some year.

For more on the entire process of going from your first open mic to surviving the road, please read my book Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage. There are a few discounts on it right now via Amazon. (Also available on Kindle, iTunes, Nook, Kobo, etc.)

Writing a bio is painful. Yes, we often like attention but most comics wish they could just post a picture from their Instagram to serve as their bio. “Look at me, I’m bacon.” You want to be funny enough so that the reader chuckles a little bit, but you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. You know those headliners who give the MC an intro that includes a lame joke in it? Avoid stuff like that.

You should at least try to write an original bio, so avoid these clichés that we’re all guilty of at some point in our career.

1. Brutally honest–Pretty much all comedy is “brutally” honest. You’re not George Carlin. They’re still going to moan at your edgiest stuff despite your bio’s warning.

2. He/she doesn’t normally refer to himself/herself in the third person. You don’t want to seem pompous for writing in third person, but it’s part of the process. Enough people have pointed out how awkward they feel. Just pretend and the patrons who actually read these things will have no idea they’re your own words about you.

3. Finalist in the 2007 Springfield Comedy Festival… Unless you’ve won anything recently in a city with over several million people, your credentials will get scoffed at.

4. Quit his/her cushy day job to do comedy full-time… It’s amazing how many of us had “cushy” day jobs. Like we were sitting in a cubicle with a massage chair making $80K a year building our 401K and stock portfolios while sipping bourbon like the cast of Mad Men. Yes, many of us have put an end to our office jobs, but that’s usually because those jobs weren’t worth our sanity. I think it’s just the word :cushy” and how many times I’ve read it over the years. You’re not a hero.

5. Young… If you’re in your mid-30s you’re not young anymore. Time to admit it to yourself and your headshot (writes the guy whose headshot turned 10 last month).

I’ll admit that my bio is far from perfect. They’re hard to get right until you get to the level where you have management who writes them for you. One last tip: When a booker asks you to send your bio and headshot, do it immediately. This isn’t your high school term paper, it’s your career and they’re trying to promote it (think back to how on-the-ball you were at that cushy office job).

For more advice on how to write your comedy bio and other tips to make money in stand-up comedy, check out my book Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage on Amazon, Kindle, iTunes, Nook, etc.